Zero
by The Flavor of the Weak
Summary: In a dystopian world where abilities are hunted and sold like drugs, every man is for himself, but a group of renegades attempt to stem the inevitable destruction of mankind. As heroes and villains blur, one girl fights the chaos, as the stakes rise.
1. Zero One

Zero

Chapter One

Filth. Sleaze. Dereliction.

Scout's skin was crawling, the sickly sweet taste of anticipation on her tongue. It was only a matter of time before one of them stumbled into the alley way, trailed by some twisted mind who was willing to fork over their own children for a shot. The dealers were like vermin in these parts: overpopulated and parasitic. From her camouflaged hiding spot in the grime and dirt, Scout watched. The sun was almost invisible from the shell of what was once New York City. Any moment now, prey would come.

On cue, a tall blond in a trench coat and sunglasses ducked into the alley, followed by a short man in boots that were much too large for him. Scout could barely hear them over the generic cries and wails of the city.

The blond glanced around, but did not see Scout spying them from her mess of garbage and waste. Once he was sure they were alone, he muttered, "What'll it be? I've got a new batch in from the West. Flight, Clairsentience, Elasticity, Prismatic Translation…"

The short man lowered his eyebrows. "D'you have anything, more, you know…useful?"

"You've gotta pay more than you showed me earlier to get those."

"I've got a lockbox back home with some stuff my mom left me. Jewelry, antiques. Nice stuff. I can get it for you."

The blond shook his head, a smug smile on his face. "No, that won't do. For a higher ability I'm going to need something more valuable. Blood or labor. You pick."

The short man flushed. "F-fine. Labor. I'll work for you. Just leave my family out of this."

"As you wish," the blond man said. "Though everyone is drawn into this conflict inevitably..." He reached inside his coat and withdrew a small brown box. Opening it, he revealed a set of identical vials set neatly into a foam bed. "These are my best wares right now. Pyrokinesis. Cryokinesis. Alchemy. Phasing. And this little darling," he smiled, tapping the leftmost vial with his gloved hand, "is Induced Radioactivity. Had a hell of a time getting my hands on that one."

"That one," the short man spat. "That's the one I want."

"They always do," the blond man sighed. He seemed almost sad for a moment, and Scout almost felt sorry for him, before she remembered why he was here. To sell powers off to desperate people, adding further corruption to this already dead world.

While the blond man searched his pockets for a syringe, Scout soundlessly pulled herself from the grimy shadows. The short man spoke. "Is it going to hurt?"

"Like hell," said Scout, removing her taser from her belt and shooting it at the short man. He yelped and crumpled to the ground.

The blond man turned to her, his eyes invisible through the sunglasses. "You know, for having a weapon with only one shot, you certainly attacked the wrong person," he smirked as he calmly shut his box of vials and slid it back into his coat pocket. "Tsk, tsk."

Scout grinned. She liked this one. He had spunk. Charisma. So many of these dealers were broken spirited and outright vile. "I love a challenge," she said in a sing-song voice.

The blond's eyes narrowed. "Funny. I don't remember accepting a challenge." He flicked his wrist, and a web of tangled electricity flew like darts towards Scout.

She grinned at the approaching light, letting it come close as possible before she teleported, vanishing like a puff of smoke. She appeared on the opposite side of the blond man.

The blond sneered. "How intriguing. I've never gotten my hands on Teleportation before. But I'd love to have yours." He hooked his index finger, and Scout went flying forward into the ground. He savored the smack of her dirty body against the wet grime. Then he lifted her into the air with a flick of his finger.

But Scout wasn't worried. She was never worried. She'd been in this position before, and she always came out on top. Always. She relaxed and tapped into the most special part of her—that power, that one power that had always been hers.

"Don't kill me, please don't kill me! I'm just an innocent girl, trying to help people..." Scout sobbed, seizing her ability. "I'll never bother you again. Please, what will happen to my poor mother when I don't come home? To my baby brother? They need me. Please, don't hurt me…" she spieled.

The blond felt himself overcome with compassion and remorse. How could he kill this girl? She was so young, so full of life and hope. In that instant, he loved her. He could never hurt her. What had he been thinking?

"Forgive me," the blonde muttered as he eased Scout out of the air and set her gently on her feet. "I am ashamed of myself."

Scout pursed her lips and said sadly, "Me too." She withdrew a syringe from the depths of her muck-covered coat and injected it into neck of the blond man. He collapsed to the ground. "Me too."

She set to work quickly before someone else happened down the alley. She pulled off the black gloves, her fair skin like pearls against a sea of blackness. She wiped the sticky grime from her face, somewhat diverting the horrid stench of muck. It was refreshing to feel somewhat uncovered from her camouflage. She felt like she spent too much time buried in filth, doing exactly what she had just done. Taking down dealers.

She leaned over the blond man and unbuttoned his coat. She rummaged through his pockets, finding the box of vials, a handgun, three syringes, and a switchblade. In his pants pocket she found a handful of other vials, labeled with Greek letters. Scout guessed these must have been the lesser powers he had first mentioned.

She tucked these items inside her own pockets, then frisked his body for anything important she may have missed. She felt a strap around his torso. Unbuttoning his shirt, she found the strap had buckled yet another vial to his body. She wondered what it could be, that it was important enough to keep separate from even the vials in the box.

"You shouldn't take advantage of a man while he's unconscious, Scout," a male voice said with mirth. Scout jumped, grabbing the handgun she had just lifted from the dealer and pointed it at this new figure.

But then recognizing the face, she relaxed. "Good hell, Riley. Don't do that. You're going to get bullet in the face one of these days."

"Doesn't everyone?" He quipped, walking over to where Scout was crouched over the blond man. Riley was fair and high spirited, a very rare thing for the times. He had messy brown hair and eyes that crinkled with laughter, not sorrow. Scout wasn't a pessimist herself, more a cock-eyed optimist. But how Riley managed to find so much merriment in such a fractured society she had no idea.

Scout ignored him. "He's telekinetic, but that's the only power he used against me. He probably has more."

"What was in his stash?"

"A bit of this and that," Scout replied. "Induced Radioactivity was what the client wanted. But he had another vial strapped to his chest. I don't think it was one of the ones he mentioned."

Riley tapped his chin. "We'll have to just do some detective work, then. I love a good mystery." He glanced from the short man to the blond man, his tongue between his teeth. "Let's just leave them. Are you ready to head home, or would you rather stay and feel up pretty boy some more?"

Scout glared at him, gathering up the handgun and the special vial. "I'm ready."

Riley stripped off his over coat and handed it to Scout to cover her grimy exterior. He would have liked his coat if it were to rain, but there was no telling when it was going to rain those days. The world seemed perpetually in overcast those days. Damn weather controllers, Scout thought. Can't give us one bloody sunny day.

As they stepped out of the alley and onto the deserted street, Riley, said, "By the way…"

Scout glanced up at him. "Yes?"

His lips twitched. "You look like hell."

As they walked away from the alley, feeling proud over their latest victory, a pair of dark brown eyes watched them. Those eyes had watched the whole scene, and they had been intrigued by what they saw. A dark smile accompanied those eyes. Their owner slithered out of the shadows.

It was time to feast.

Authoress Note: Holy pockets, Batman. It's been forEVAR since I've written fanfiction, but here I am. This fic is brought to you by watching all three seasons of heroes in one week, Smashing Pumpkin's song "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning," and some Watchmen influences. I know OC-centric can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but the Heroes-verse is pretty accessible and characters from the series WILL be showing up shortly (one of them already has). Please please PLEASE review. I cannot stress that enough! If I don't get any reviews, I have no motivation to write any more, and that is sadness.

Enough blathering for now. Hope you liked it!


	2. Zero Two

Zero

Chapter Two

Riley and Scout snaked through the gnarled mess of steel and rubble to what was technically their "home". However, it didn't feel like much of one; at least, not in the traditional sense of the word. It was more like the basement of some skyscraper than had crumbled to the ground. The wreckage of the skyscraper was massive, making it difficult to find their home if one didn't already know the way. It also provided overhead protection. There was no telling what was going to fall on the city any given day. Scout would have liked somewhere more cozy. Cuddling up to rusted water heaters and storage shelves wasn't exactly her idea of home sweet home, but it was better than most people could hope to live in.

"What'd you get for dinner?" Scout asked as she stepped through the twisted metal jungle.

"Gus had a pretty good selection this morning. We've got soup," Riley announced, grinning.

"Soup," Scout repeated, feeling crestfallen. "We have soup all the time."

Riley turned to her, an excited spark in his eye. "With chicken."

Scout's jaw dropped. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten chicken. Suddenly the world seemed just a little brighter.

Riley chuckled, reading her face. "I thought you would appreciate that. We've got a few crumbs of—" he stopped mid-step, pressing a finger to his lips.

Scout froze. When Riley heard something, it was best to follow his example. His supersensitive hearing was infallible. Her fingers instinctively wrapped around her newly acquired shotgun. She hoped the blond man had a few shots left in it.

Riley stood still, merely listening for a moment. Scout counted as the seconds ticked past, wondering who, or what, it was that Riley was hearing. A dealer? A Finder? An ally?

Finally, Riley lowered his finger from his lips. "We were being followed," he spoke slowly and quietly.

She searched his face for explanations. "Was it human?" She asked after a moment.

Riley nodded. "Yes." He grabbed Scout's wrist and pulled her off their usual path. They ducked down under bending steel. Scout followed without a word.

"You seem…frightened," she whispered after a silent moment.

Riley smiled weakly. "If you heard what I just did, you'd be frightened, too," he muttered. "I heard something dark. In its heartbeat. I've never heard one like it before."

Scout nodded. She'd kill it if she had to.

Suddenly, Riley gasped. "The footsteps. I…I can't hear them anymore."

"Maybe it flew away."

"No. I can still hear its heartbeat. But I can't tell how close—"

The metal slab above them snapped, its jagged edges falling straight towards their bodies. "Damnit, Riley! Hold on!" Scout grabbed his arm, teleporting herself and Riley out to the usual pathway.

A man was waiting for them. He was smiling darkly, and his eyes were filled with amusement. This was just another game of cat and mouse to him.

Scout didn't waste time on introductions. She took out her shotgun and fired.

The bullet stopped midair. The dark figure dropped it to the ground with a wag of his finger.

Scout rolled her eyes. "Hell. You're a feisty one, aren't you? Did blondie send you after us? Could have killed him, you know. Guess I'll have to finish the job on you so he gets the hint."

He seemed amused, either by what she said or by the fact she was still mostly covered in grime. "I only work for myself, ginger."

"You're a damned idiot if you work by yourself these days."

"Shut up, Scout!" Riley barked. She ignored him.

"And you're a damned idiot if you don't. As far as I can tell, everyone has been damned at this point. Now, will you beg me for your life as usual or do I have to make you?" He wiggled his finger again. Scout and Riley both fell to their knees.

Riley looked at Scout pointedly. She could get them out of this, but she hadn't yet. "This is just getting interesting," she muttered so quietly she knew only Riley could hear her.

"Scout, is it? Interesting name," He said. "I watched what you did earlier. Trying to be a hero. Not very inspiring, in my opinion. There are no heroes these days. There is no 'good.' So why even try?" The man took a few steps closer. He bent down so he was at eye level with his captives.

Scout willed her limbs to move, but she couldn't even wiggle. He was strong. For a fleeting moment she was worried that her power might not be able to overcome him. She pushed the thought away.

"You're wrong," Scout snarled. She could feel Riley trembling slightly beside her. She wondered what he was hearing in this man's heart now.

"Am I? Well, let's just see how you feel when I take that part of you which makes you a hero away. Usually I kill my victims, but for the sake of poetic justice, I think I'll let you live."

There was no more waiting. It was now or never. She tugged at her power. Tears came to her eyes, and the words of a well-rehearsed speech came to her lips.

"Don't kill me! Please, don't kill me. I'll do anything, please, just let us live…"

The man watched in curiosity for a moment before he felt himself overcome by a strange, foreign feeling: compassion. His body tried to expel it like some kind of parasitic virus. He knew this was not natural. Somehow she was doing this…and he couldn't help but sever his hold over his captives.

Scout felt her limbs loosen, but she didn't let her guard down yet. "Oh, thank you, thank you…" she sobbed, feeling slightly disgusted at herself. It was useful power, but she felt so pathetic every time she used it. "I don't believe I got your name, sir. Please, I would love to know your name!"

His mind fought to hold back, to not succumb to her persuasion. It felt like a ton of weights pushed against his senses, until he could concentrate on nothing else but releasing the information she wanted.

"Sylar."

Scout smiled. "Sylar, is it? Interesting name. Would you please stay still for just one moment while I have a word with my friend? Pretty please?"

Sylar felt his limbs lock. Her power was unusual…it wasn't one he had encountered before. As he stood there, frozen, his desire to tear open her skull and probe her brain for explanations about this strange, complex power grew.

"What the hell do we do now?" Scout asked Riley. She saw no easy road. They could kill him, but something told her that he would not go down easily. He was strong, and it was taking a lot of her strength to restrain him even now. She wasn't sure if she could muster the strength to keep him still if he knew they were going to kill him.

"Seems to me he'd make a pleasant roommate," Riley smirked.

"A moment ago you were trembling because you were scared. Now you want to be friends with him?"

Riley shook his head. "I wasn't scared."

"Oh?"

"Cold."

Scout rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"Do you have any better ideas? We can't very well let him go. He's just going to come after us again."

Scout considered this for a moment. Unhappily, she admitted Riley was right. This man had said something about taking that which made them heroes. Their powers. They couldn't just let him go so he could come after them again.

She frowned. "Fine." She turned and faced Sylar. "Congratulations, Mr. Sylar. You are officially our first P.O.W."

Sylar felt her hold over his actions release, but as he prepared to catch them again, Riley put his index finger against Sylar's temple and said, "Now, this might tickle a little bit."

Sylar fell unconscious to the ground.

Scout whistled. "I hope we didn't just do something incredibly stupid."

Riley grinned at her. "I'm afraid we didn't have many options."

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Noah Bennet didn't remember a time where he was going up an elevator while surrounded by heavily armed guards. There was a first for everything, though it was probably an experience he could do without. His sixty-seven years of life were starting to weigh in on him. Every day he felt a little bit closer to death.

Nathan Petrelli had summoned him to the Wacosta Tower in Washington D.C., one of the last few secure cities in the United States. Noah didn't know why, of all people, Nathan would want to talk to him. The outbreak of abilities was something that Noah had tried to prevent from happening multiple times, and something he had failed at multiple times. If anything, he had only precipitated the problem. Now powers were being sold in vials on the street to anyone who could pay. The world had turned into chaos. Just one of the things he had fought to prevent, but could not find a stable way to do so.

The elevator doors slid open, and Noah stepped into Nathan's office. At the far end of a plush blue carpet sat Nathan at a large mahogany desk. His forehead was in his hand as he examined a mess of papers spread out over his desk.

"It's been a long time, Nathan," Noah said as he started the walk to Nathan's desk. "Since I haven't had the chance yet, congratulations on winning the presidency."

"You mean this job that inexplicable fell into my hands because some people were killed?" Nathan sighed. Everything about him was tired. "Some election."

"I figure you didn't summon me here to talk about politics."

Nathan lifted his eyes from the papers he was scouring. "No, I didn't. Something drastic needs to be done, and it needs to be done now. And I need your help."

Noah sighed. "I'm retired, Nathan. We're holding up just fine in Austin, and I think I've had enough adventures in my life time."

"I figure you'd say that. Which is why I worked very hard to figure out the one thing that I knew would make you help me."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "And what's that, Nathan?"

"It's Claire, Noah." Nathan said, slowly drawing out his words. "I know where she is."

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A/N: Whew! Got through it. This chapter felt like poop, so if it feels like poop when you're reading it, I do apologize. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed/faved/added this story to their alerts! I really means a lot.

Now, if you read this chapter, please take just thirty seconds more and review it! It would mean very much to me. Reviews are my only incentive to keep me going, so if you want me to write more, then you must review!

That's enough for now. See you next chapter! :) Thanks for reading!


	3. Zero Three

Zero

Chapter Three

"Wakey wakey, lemon bakey."

The first thing Sylar saw when he opened his eyes was Scout stooped over him with a syringe pressed against his neck. He didn't even flinch as she drove the needle in, but he did feel the strength completely leave his limbs.

"Kind of ironic, isn't it?" He asked, looking around at the room he was in. The walls were whitewashed. Blue light filtered in from window wells, and a single dim light bulb dangled overhead. The room was lined with shelves of different kinds of equipment, mostly bags of food and medical supplies. Sylar noticed they hadn't even bothered to tie him up. Scout had figured that if he had strength enough to get free, shackles weren't going to do any good.

"Hm?" Scout raised her eyebrows as she yanked the syringe from Sylar's neck. She'd cleaned up since the night before. The muck had been washed away from her face and red hair, and she was wearing a clean set of clothes. She placed the syringe back into a kit that was lying near her knees.

"Mugging people who are selling powers to others…when you've obviously had a few shots yourself." He smiled. "Teleportation and emotional persuasion couldn't have come from the same set of DNA."

Scout pretended to ignore him, but bit her lip.

"How many other powers do you have, Scout?" He sounded genuinely interested. Scout knew he wanted a count of what he could take from her.

She disregarded the question. "What do you do, Sylar? When you said you were going to take what made us special, how do you do that?"

He smirked. "I'd have to show you."

Scout closed up her kit, frustration knitting her brow. "Perhaps some other time. I've given you a drug that will temporarily incapacitate you, as you may have already noticed. You'll have limited use of your limbs soon enough, but it'll take several hours before you regain use of your abilities. Now, just how many abilities do _you _have, Mr. Sylar?"

He laughed darkly, but said nothing.

"You're trying to intimidate me, aren't you? In case you haven't notice, I don't exactly spook easily."

Sylar didn't respond.

"Who was it that said, 'Courage isn't the absence of fear, but rather the knowledge that something else is more important'? Ah, well. I guess that's my motto. I also take comfort in the fact that all villains share one fatal flaw." She leaned forward and peered into Sylar's dark eyes. "You all _monologue. _Play with your food before you eat it. Always causes the downfall of the villain." Her voice was full of mirth.

Sylar still didn't respond.

Scout stood up and headed for the door. "Hope you like bread and soup, Mr. Sylar."

As he watched her leave the room, his mouth started to water as he thought of how he would kill her. He would show her that playing with his food didn't always bring his downfall when he was cutting her into tiny pieces.

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"Claire?" Noah repeated, his face lighting up. He read Nathan's face, and it didn't seem like he was lying. But it had been years since anyone had seen Claire. How could Nathan have possibly tracked her down at last? "How did you find her? Where is she?"

Nathan held up a hand warily. "One step at a time, Noah. I'm going to need your word that you'll help me in this war before I tell you anything."

Noah's eyes narrowed behind his horn-rimmed glasses. "Don't think just because you're the politician that you're the only one in this room with negotiation skills. How can I trust you?"

"Because there is no one else left to trust. At least, not at the moment."

Noah's glare turned to curiosity. "What do you mean by that?"

Nathan cleared his throat, and began neatly stacking the papers in front of him. He kept his eyes down, not wanted to give away how desperate he was for Mr. Bennet's help. He wasn't being rhetorical when he said there was no one left to trust; the shoe-horn president felt like Noah Bennet was probably the only trustworthy person he knew left.

"Your word, Mr. Bennet, and I will answer everything you ask me."

Noah grumbled, reluctant to give his word to anyone, even Nathan Petrelli. But if it was really true that he could somehow see Claire again—if he could just look at his smiling, beloved Claire Bear one more time—it was worth even the stupidest of promises.

"Fine, Nathan. You have my word. I will help you in this war."

Nathan smiled faintly. "Thank you, Noah." He indicated an armchair across him in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat. I have discovered a lot of things recently, and there is much you need to be informed about."

"Let's start with Claire," Noah said pointedly, taking a seat in the arm chair.

"Sure," Nathan sighed. "We'll start with Claire. She's tied into this whole thing as much as any of the others."

Noah's heart buzzed. "What do you mean, others? Where is she, Nathan?"

"It's not so much where she is as _when _she is," Nathan said. He leaned back in his car and laced his fingers together.

"_When?_" Noah repeated, incredulous. Hiding in a different time would have been very clever, but how could she had gotten there? Then one named flashed in his mind, and the image of a person he had not seen for a long time. "It would seem you have a lot of explaining to do."

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Claire Bennet was quite content with her current situation. She had always wanted to be a character in a Jane Austen novel, and she figured this was a close as she would ever get. Nineteenth-century England seemed good for her health, however, and between her wardrobe of pretty dresses with empire waists, dances held by well-to-do bachelors, afternoon tea in the gardens, and nightly book readings and concerts, it was sometimes easy to forget that she didn't really belong here, that she was just biding her time until she was called upon again.

There were nights where she would cry herself to sleep, drifting into nightmares about have to return to the awful place she had come from. But these moments were passing, and most of the time she pushed the thought of leaving out of her mind completely.

But even at those times when she was most contented, there was a little bud in her heart that constantly reminded her that she had another life she was supposed to be living.

It was the night of Lord Dashiell's social when her temporary fairy tale was shattered. It came with arrival of someone she did not want to see, but at the same time, was completely overjoyed to see.

Claire and her companion, Miss Addie Hartwright, rode through the countryside in a carriage towards the Dashiell estate. Claire couldn't count the stars in the sky; the world was so clear in those days. A quick image of the night sky in Odessa flashed in her mind, but she pushed it back, as usual.

"Miss Bennet, if I may, you are looking somewhat distracted this evening," Addie remarked. "Is there something troubling you?"

Claire tore her eyes away from the sky and smiled at her friend. "Nothing. Just thinking about home."

Addie's lips twitched into a smile. "Haleston? Such a beautiful place."

Claire nodded, and returned the smile, going along with it. "Yes. Haleston. I'm happy to be here, but I do get a bit homesick at times."

"Well, Miss Bennet, the season is almost at an end. Perhaps you can go visit then," Addie said.

"Yes, perhaps," Claire agreed, and her smile faded.

The carriage lurched to a stop.

"We can't be to Dashiell Manor yet," Addie said, furrowing her brow. "Driver, why have we stopped?"

Claire poked her head out of the carriage window and peered into the road. The driver was conversing with a man who stood directly in the middle of the path. He wore a tall silk hat and a scarf around his face, though it was summer time. Claire's heart began to thunder in her chest.

" 'Scuse me, sir, but I'm gonna 'ave to ask you to move aside, then," the driver said in a thick cockney accent.

"I'm afraid I need to speak with one of your passengers," the man said. Claire's felt the blood leave her cheeks. She knew that voice.

"Now, now, I'm not about to let strange men 'ave a chat with these 'ere girlies," the driver spat. "Move aside, then."

"I'm afraid I wasn't asking for your permission," the man said.

Addie placed her hand on Claire's arm. "Miss Bennet, what's wrong? You've turned as pale as a ghost."

Claire turned to Addie and smiled weakly, knowing this was the last time she would see her friend. "Thank you for all you have done, Addie. You have been most kind to me."

"But, Miss Bennet, what are you—?" Addie fell short of words.

Claire climbed out of the carriage, regarding Addie one last time. "Good bye, Addie." As she stepped onto the road, the man's head turned slowly towards her.

"I'm warnin' you, if you lay one finger on 'er, I'll 'ave yer 'ead," the driver threatened, standing up in his seat.

"There won't be any need for that, my good sir," the man said. Claire could hear a chuckle in his voice. "I believe Miss Bennet is expecting me."

The driver turned to Claire. "You know 'im?"

Claire stared into the dark eyes of the man and nodded. "Yes, I do. It is alright. I will be fine with this gentleman. You may proceed to Dashiell Manor."

The driver shuddered. "I don't like this, not 'un bit." He glared at the man, but took his seat again. "Should I be comin' to pick you up later, missy?"

"No, don't preoccupy yourself with concerns for my wellbeing. I assure you, I will be fine."

The man stepped out of the road and towards Claire. His footsteps echoed the thundering in Claire's chest. They day had come far too soon. She wasn't ready to go back yet.

The driver was still peering at her, concern covering his features.

"Just go, please," Claire said.

He nodded, giving the man the stink eye before grabbing the reins and urging the carriage forward once again. Claire caught on last glimpse of Addie's sad eyes as they turned the corner and drove out of view.

"You could have come at a more convenient time," Claire sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Honestly, Claire, is there a time you really think would be convenient?" He pulled off his scarf and balled it up in his hands.

She half-smiled. "I suppose not. I always knew this day would come, but…I always sort of hoped it wouldn't." Butterflies swirled in her stomach as faces from her past flashed through her mind: her father and her mother, Nathan, Lyle, even Mr. Muggles.

"You can't escape who you are," he said sadly. Claire could tell this was a truth he regretted as well.

"I know, Peter."

He smiled. It had been a long time since he had seen his niece, but he felt as comfortable around her as he always had.

"Where's Hiro?" Claire asked.

"Well, he dropped me off here because I convinced him I'd have better luck getting you to leave high society," Peter said. "He said he was going to fetch Ando from feudal Japan, and then he'd be back for us."

"Why now?"

"Apparently my brother has gone to extreme lengths to try and find us. He's ready to fight back. He found Hiro and so Hiro decided the time was right. It's time for us to return and be heroes."

Claire shrugged. She glanced at the tall, lush trees around her and the sky filled with diamond-like stars. "I'm not so sure I want to be a hero anymore."

Peter smirked. "Hiro said that if you were doubtful to tell you that it is our destiny."

Claire couldn't help but snicker at the space-bender's undying faith in destiny. "And what about you? Do you think this is our destiny?"

"We were given these powers for a reason, Claire, and now we have to use them against those who have taken advantage of these gifts."

Claire nodded slowly. Peter was right. Even if they hid in the past forever, somehow fate would find a way to coax them back to where they belonged.

"Well then, no use hanging around here," Claire sighed.

"Hiro said he would find us after he picked up Ando, so all we need to do is just wait," Peter explained.

Claire took a deep breath. The night air was warm and the stars were bright. She stepped off the road and sat down in the grass, patting the ground beside her. "Come on, tell me all about your life in the Roaring Twenties."

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A/N: There! This chapter came together naturally, so I like it a lot more than last chapter. The story is starting to move forward, and more of our beloved Heroes are showing up! Full steam ahead!

Mucho thanks to KaraxLavi13 and night-star-93 for consistently reviewing! Guys, it REALLY means a lot to me. And those of you have this story set to fav/alert, I appreciate you, too, but I'd appreciate it even more if you would review as well! Pretty please? :)

Well, that's all for now. I'll see you next chapter! And once again, please review! I'll think of something special to do for all those who review! Maybe a character named after you or something! There's some incentive for you. :P Thanks for reading!


	4. Zero Four

Zero

Chapter Four

"When the Fall started, Hiro Nakamura was very adamant that we do something about it. I agreed with him, but when government watched people with abilities—people like _us_—tearing down civilization itself, they were a little bit unsympathetic to our cause." Nathan turned a pen over in his hands and ran his slender fingers over the bridge.

Noah opened his mouth to say something, but could not find the words.

"I thought it would be best for us—those of us we knew were the 'good guys', to take the antidote that was developed by Dr. Suresh to rid ourselves of our abilities and assimilate into regular society."

"Even though regular humans didn't stand a chance of surviving against humans with abilities?" Noah asked.

Nathan's mouth formed into a long, rigid line. "I admit I didn't fully…appreciate the gravity of the situation at that time," he answered. "I thought this was still a war that could be fought with guns and weapons." He placed the pen delicately onto his desk. "Mr. Nakamura, however, disagreed. He thought it was the destiny of those with abilities—for the heroes—to defeat the villains. He managed to convince a number of 'heroes' we've been familiar with over the years to join his cause."

"Claire?" Noah said her name quietly, like it was sacred.

"Yes. She was one of them. My brother, Peter, was another. His friend, Ando Masahashi. Matt Parkman. Micah Sanders. Molly Walker. There were others, as well. Quite a few joined up to be heroes.

"Then came the government's quarantine order. Herd people with abilities into reservations. Lock them up and throw away the key. If they struggled, shoot. It was hardly a comfortable climate to form a team of heroes. So Hiro Nakamura came up with an alternative plan.

"There was no safe place to hide on earth, so he would hide his heroes in time itself. He separated them and took them back through time, when the world was serene. He then returned to the present, keeping a very low profile. And he was successful. It's very hard to track down someone who can bend space and time."

Noah lips twitched into a ghost of a smile.

"He was waiting for the day until someone here was ready to fight back. And, coincidentally enough, that someone was me." Nathan sighed. The expression on Noah's face wasn't exactly encouraging.

"So Hiro has gone to find the heroes hidden in time. And then what do you suppose we do? Most of our most dangerous enemies have shamelessly shot up and gained multiple powers and have plenty of disposable people at their use. How do you expect for a humble group of people with only one power each to possibly defeat them?" Noah's eyes grew dark.

The room was silent. Nathan heard the sound of gunfire outside, and hoped Noah couldn't read the fear on his face.

"It's true, the outlook is bleak," Nathan said, keeping his voice steady. "But while there are still good people in this world, we cannot stand by and do nothing."

Noah raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"There are reports from the streets that there are individual crime fighters out there, doing everyday what we should be doing for them," Nathan responded. "They have small successes, but ultimately the end up brutally murdered for the missions they carry out. We can offer them protection and organization. They know the cities well. Their help is vital to this cause."

"How many?"

"We have no idea. We have more bodies turning up than vigilantes themselves, and survival rates are continuing to decrease. The street bosses have special people with the ability to track people, called Finders. They weed out the good guys and take them out." Nathan leaned forward. "Noah, I can't keep letting this happen anymore. I have to try to stop it, or at least die trying."

Noah sank into his chair. Sixty-eight years. Sixty-eight years of painful life, and this is where he was: contemplating whether or not to aid the fight for mankind itself. Sandra, his dear Sandra, was dead. Lyle was in hiding in Warsaw, and Claire was hiding in the past. He had lost everything that truly mattered to him by his own hand.

"Noah, I'm offering you a chance for redemption. A chance to put things right," Nathan said, hitting a tender chord in Noah's heart.

He could at least do this so that those who came after him had the chance to live a better life than he had. There had to be a future to this world.

Noah took a deep breath and said, "Alright. You have my complete allegiance. Just tell me what I need to do."

--------------------------------------

"Dear Riley, I have gone out to clean up some trash and pick up an old friend. Already took care of Sylar. Please clean the bathroom. Love, Scout." Riley ran a hand through his tangled hair as he read the note Scout had left on the kitchen table aloud. His watch told him it was noon, his usual time for waking up. He guessed Scout had been gone for a few hours. She was one of those insane people who got up obnoxiously early. Riley could barely bring himself to drag his body out of bed before twelve.

He exhaled a long, groggy breath before settling into silence. He just listened for a couple of minutes. He heard the wind blowing through the metal jungle outside, accompanied by squealing pipes and occasional shouts from the street. He rather liked the ability of supersonic hearing; it made it quite difficult to sneak up on him.

Which is why he heard Scout returning minutes before she opened the hatch and dropped into their home. She wasn't alone, either.

And Riley was none too pleased when he heard the voice of Scout's acquaintance as they approached the base.

Riley was standing at the counter, attempting to transform a hard lump of bread into something edible. No matter how hard he tried, the knife simply would not take to the bread. He dropped the knife with a clatter as Scout entered behind him.

"Morning," Scout said, dropping something with a _ker-plunk_ onto the kitchen table. "I've got a visitor with me."

"I know," Riley sighed, trying not to sound frustrated. "Been a long time, Hollis." He flipped around, his bright green eyes meeting with cold grey.

Hollis smiled thinly. "Riley." She was a sharp-featured girl with a strong jawbone, almond-shaped eyes and a face framed by dark tresses. It was a face Riley knew all too well. He had a longing urge to crawl back into bed.

Scout cleared her throat in the awkward silence that followed, and Riley's eyes landed on the misshapen mass covered in a plastic bag that Scout had set on the table.

"What the hell is that?" Riley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Lifted it this morning," Scout said, grinning. "It's got a few bad parts, but it's still cheese. Might even make that bread there edible." She gestured to the stale bread on the counter behind Riley.

"Lifted? From whom?"

"Garbage."

Riley chortled at Scout's codename for dealers.

"Anyway, feel free to have some. We have some work to do."

Riley reached for the bag of cheese and pulled back its plastic covering. "Work? And what would that be?"

Scout smiled, and something dark played across her expression. "We're going to talk to our tight-lipped new friend."

As she headed for the storage room door, she stopped and picked up a case of surgical equipment that was on the counter. Riley bit his lip as he watched the girls slip through the door.

-----------------------------------------

Sylar hated the sluggish feeling that had been populating his body the past few days. He could barely move his fingers, let alone stand up or use his powers. He was frustrated beyond belief, and every time he thought he might have built up enough energy to fight back and use his powers, Scout was there again with a syringe in her hand and a wicked smile on her face. Sylar hadn't spoken since that first day. He was so consumed by his rage and desire to kill her.

Now she came again. But this time, she was not alone. And it wasn't that boy who was accompanying her, either.

"Hello, Sylar," Scout said, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. Her new friend took a seat beside her. "How are you feeling?"

His fingers twitched, but he said nothing.

"This is my friend, Hollis. She's special, too, just like you and me. Would you like to talk to her?"

Again, he said nothing. Scout sighed and set the medical case down in front of her.

"My friend, you see, is a telepath. She can get into your mind, walk around for a bit, appreciate the scenery, and give me those answers that you refuse." Scout moistened her lips. "Who are you, really? Where do you come from? What powers do you have?"

Sylar turned his head slightly, but only looked at Hollis. His dark eyes pierced her grey ones, but Hollis didn't flinch.

"I'd like to offer you one last chance to speak freely. Sometimes well-preserved minds are difficult to access, but I've found, in the past, that little distractions…" Scout drummed her fingers against the medical kit. "…help with interrogation." She tried to smile, but could barely manage it. She maintained her calm exterior, though adrenaline was pulsing through her body. She had done this more times than she would care to count, so much that it felt like a routine. But it excited her, in a sickening, frightening way.

They waited. Sylar's lips curled into a smile like a jack-o-lantern's. "I think I've decided how I'll kill you. I'll start with your fingers and toes. How does that sound?"

Scout lips twitched, and she felt almost disappointed he chose the hard way. She turned to Hollis. "Dig deep."

Hollis nodded, then stared straight into Sylar's eyes. Sylar stared relentlessly back, like he was challenging her. Her eyes narrowed and a small snort escaped her. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"I can't get in," she muttered. "All he's showing me is bodies. Victims."

Scout sighed. "I was afraid it would come to this." She pulled back the latched on the surgical kit, and flipped open the lid. She examined its contents, before picking up a small but precisely sharp knife.

She crept close to Sylar, his dark eyes turning to her. "Where do you hurt the most? You know, Sylar, this world has crumbled because of people like you. Dealers are dealers; they're harmless. Well—mostly." She smirked as her left hand closed around his wrist. "That's why we leave them. But people like you, who go out of the way to hurt someone else…" she brought his hand to the knife in her right. She placed the blade firmly but gently against his palm. "…must pay for those you kill." Her heart was beating frantically as she slid the blade evenly across his palm, creating a nice, straight line of blood.

Sylar cringed. Hollis took that exact moment and catapulted herself into his mind. She waded through memories and thoughts, all free for her to access.

Scout exhaled. Her neck tingled with sweat. She usually didn't get this worked up when torturing someone, but she could barely keep her thoughts straight. _Don't get soft,_ she chastised.

Then, Sylar started to laugh. Scout watched in dismay as the skin on his hand knit itself back together, until all that remained was the blood from the wound. Hollis' head snapped back, as his mind purged itself of the intruder.

"Wasn't sure if that would still be working," Sylar smirked.

Scout guessed that the drug she had been giving Sylar only prevented someone from utilizing a power, not prevented automatic powers altogether.

"So, you have rapid cellular regeneration. That's a start." Scout turned to Hollis. "Did you find anything?"

Hollis nodded, her eyes wide. "Many things. He's killed many people, Scout. I saw recurring faces. A blonde cheerleader. A man with horn-rimmed glasses. A girl with electric powers. Watches. His mind—it's like a watch."

"What about a name? Powers?"

"Only one power truly belongs to him. Intuitive aptitude. He wants to know how things work, and he figures it out at all costs." Hollis took a deep breath, shuddering. "I saw him use many powers, electric manipulation, shape-shifting, lie detection, spontaneous explosion…and telekinesis."

"Is that _all?" _Scout asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure."

"Quite the impressive line-up, Mr. Sylar," Scout said, still staring into the palm of his hand. The blood was starting to dry. There wasn't even a scar. Rapid cellular regeneration was one of the most sought-after abilities on the street. An image flashed through her head: selling his blood, making profit she and Riley desperately needed…surely the ends would justify the means.

She shook the idea out of her head. She wouldn't be like _them_. She wouldn't be like _him._

"Do you know the story of Prometheus, Sylar?" Scout asked. She dropped his wrist and examined the drying blood on her knife. "He stole fire from the gods and gave it to mortals." She grabbed a cloth from the kit and wiped the knife clean. "He gave them intelligence. This made Zeus angry, and as a punishment, he chained Prometheus up—"

"And let crows eat at his liver for eternity. He never died, because he was immortal, and his liver kept growing back. But he suffered the exquisite pain." Sylar's voice was low. A dark smile covered his face.

Scout's eyes narrowed. "I think immortality is bit overrated when you spend your entire existence in pain. There might not be a scratch on you, but that just means you can hurt over and over again." She put the blade against Sylar's neck. His skin was hot, and she could feel his pulsing blood beneath the pressure of her blade. "I haven't gotten all the answers I want. Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to resort to other measures?"

"You aren't nearly as intimidating as you think you are," Sylar said quietly.

"Oh? Well I'm just going to have to change your mind about that." She drove the knife in, and pulled it silently across his jugular.

A look of shock crossed Sylar's face, but he did his best to repress it as a river of blood spurted from his wound.

Hollis dove in again, pressing hard against his thoughts this time. She didn't waste time with any of his distractions this time, going straight for the most secret parts of his mind.

But the wound in his neck was already closing up, though it left him with a sticky, foul-smelling shirt. Hollis' jumped back again. Sylar's expression was murderous.

"I got it, Scout. His name," Hollis breathed.

Scout's eyes lit up. "What is it?"

Her eyes fluttered shut, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Gabriel. Gabriel Gray."

Scout suddenly recoiled, dropping her knife and scooting back against the nearest shelf. Concern, not fear, washed over her face, but she felt suddenly sick, and her breath was heavy. She stared into Sylar's eyes, which only looked curious and menacing back at her.

"Scout? What's wrong?" Hollis asked, moving towards her distraught friend.

But Scout didn't hear her at all. Her mind buzzed with confusion as images flashed through her mind. Letters on her parent's writing desk, addressed to that name, Gabriel Gray. Conversations held in quietude when they thought she was asleep in her bed, concerning that name, Gabriel Gray. A part of her wanted to be excited, but another part of her wanted to be afraid.

"Do you remember?" Scout whispered.

Sylar's eyes widened, and suddenly he understood what she meant. He understood everything.

"Jane Elizabeth Prince," Sylar muttered.

Scout nodded.

----------------------------------------

A/N: Well, end of another chapter! I was going to go back to Claire/Peter, but I didn't want to make this too much longer than previous chapters, so I'm stopping here. Besides, this was more suspenseful! Ha.

Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed! **Shadeslayer390, night-star-93, A. Odessa, Neurotic-Isopod,** and **KaraxLavi13**—you guys make my day! Seriously, you have no idea how happy it makes me when I get one of those review notifications in my inbox. It's like a little piece o' love! Thank you, again, for being so encouraging and reading this fic! I only hope that this chapter and future chapters live up to expectations. I hope I can do my best for you guys!

Alright, that's all for now. See you next chapter, and remember to review if you read! I very much appreciate it! Thanks for reading!


	5. Zero Five

Zero

Chapter Five

Hiro returned all too soon. Claire was enjoying herself very much as she listened to Peter recount his adventures in 1920s America. He'd worked in a newspaper office, writing articles. He'd visited speakeasies at night, listening to jazz musicians beat out the newest and hottest tunes. He'd gone to the first talkies at the theater. Claire wondered idly if she had picked the wrong time period to stay in.

"I saw The Jazz Singer! You know, with Al Jolson? The expressions on the audience's faces…it was incredible. If only we could show them what movies can do now," Peter said, smiling.

Claire's smile faded. "Are you going to miss it?"

Peter regarded her thoughtfully, but kept his smile. "I will. But we can't hide from the future forever."

Claire nodded. He was right, though she wished desperately that she could stay put. She wondered what that felt like—to feel secure in one place. It was a feeling she had never really understood, and she doubted she ever would. But if she didn't go back, then she knew she never would.

There was a sound behind them like the rushing of wind and a pop. Claire and Peter turned around, finding Hiro Nakamura and Ando Masahashi standing in the road behind them.

"I'll never get used to that feeling," Ando complained, rubbing his head with his fingers. He was decked out in an intricate robe and sandals, and wondered what position in life he had held in feudal Japan.

"You always say that," Hiro muttered. He smiled upon seeing Claire. "Claire Bennet! Peter Petrelli has found you!"

Claire nodded and smiled back. She and Peter got to their feet. "Indeed he did."

"Are you ready to return to the future? The others are waiting there for us," Hiro said.

Claire turned full-circle, taking in the world around her for one last time. She inhaled the sweet, clear night air, saw the bright, glimmering stars in the sky and the Dashiell home off in the distance, and heard the symphony of crickets and rustling grass. No, she wasn't ready, but she probably wouldn't ever be.

Hiro read the regret on Claire's face. "This is not our place. We must return. It is our destiny."

Peter placed a hand on Claire's shoulder and smiled encouragingly. "It won't be the same fight without you, Claire."

Claire sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's just go."

"Alright, everyone," Hiro directed, gathering the heroes around him. "Hold on tight."

---------------------------------------------

Jane Elizabeth Prince had never been much of a partygoer. She preferred the company of a couple of good friends, a B-horror movie, and writers like Kafka and Nietzsche to getting drunk and making out. But her best friend, Sam, was the exact opposite.

"You _have _to come, Lizzie. It's like a rite of passage. It's Dessie Thompson! The eighteenth birthday party of the most popular girl in school! How can you pass that up?" Sam prodded her homemade Caesar salad in her lunchbox as she grilled Jane from across the lunch table.

Jane wore a grim expression, as if she found the whole idea completely revolting. It wasn't as if she hadn't ever gone to a party before. But the parties she frequented more-than-usually consisted of Red Bull and LAN.

But Sam was looking at her with those puppy dog eyes that won over even the strictest of teachers. Jane bit her bottom lip, telling herself over and over it was just one night. It seemed to really mean a lot to Sam, and after all the things Jane had dragged Sam to, she owed her.

"Fine, I'll go with you," Jane sighed at last. Sam beamed at her.

"Oh, wonderful! You won't regret it. I promise."

Jane doubted it, but she simply smiled back at her friend. "Seven, tonight? You'll be by to pick me up?"

"Yup. In the pickup, as usual."

---------------------------

Scout had never heard anything as loud as the silence that was currently pounding in her eardrums. Her body felt frozen, and she could do nothing but stare at Sylar. Hollis looked at her friend with concern, trying to grasp what was happening.

"Scout, are you—"

"Hollis, if you would be kind enough to wait in the kitchen," Scout said automatically.

Hollis furrowed her brow, but didn't ask any more questions. With one last look at Sylar, she slipped through the storage room door.

Scout's tongue flopped like a dead fish in her mouth. She couldn't find the words to express what was running through her head, leaving her literally dumbfounded.

Two jagged ideas floated through her consciousness and bucked heads. But of this she was sure: this man had tried to kill her. But he had once saved her life.

"I didn't recognize you. You were a brunette back then," Sylar spoke softly, trying to mask stress in his voice.

"A haircut and a dye is all it takes for you to not recognize me?" Scout tried sound smug, but her voice crackled instead.

"You seem to think that…_incident_ was important to me. It wasn't. Just a passing favor."

Scout's eyes glimmered sharply. "You saved my life."

"Out of convenience," Sylar replied shortly.

Scout growled, and considered calling Hollis back into the room. She had more questions than ever now, and could use the help. But she wanted to figure out these answers for herself. These were things she needed to learn all by herself.

-------------------------------------

Sam's beat-up red pickup idled in front of Jane's house. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as Jane crossed the yard and hopped into the passenger seat.

"You're wearing _that_?" Sam snorted, eyeing Jane's casual outfit.

Jane glanced down at her skinny-leg jeans and red _Legend of Zelda _t-shirt. "Yep." She regarded Sam's slinky black dress with a guffaw. "Sorry, was this supposed to be formal dress?"

Sam frowned and threw the clutch into first gear. "Nevermind, you."

A couple of blocks and a handful of sarcastic conversations later, Sam pulled onto Dessie Thompson's street. The curbs were lined with cars, and they could already hear music pulsing loudly from the house.

"Nice place," Jane commented, taking in the large driveway, cavernous doorway, and turrets. Sam parked her truck in an empty driveway.

They crossed the street and walked into Dessie's house. Jane was immediately overcome by the smell of beer and sweat. The entryway alone was filled with groups of teenagers, drinking and grinding and talking and kissing. She raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sam.

Sam didn't take the hint. She grabbed Jane's hand and pulled her through the throngs of people towards the living room. Jane could barely process the scenes and faces passing before her before she found a cup thrust into her hand.

Jane squinted at the brown liquid, then frowned at Sam. "You're not drinking, are you? If you are, I'm not."

But Sam had already taken a few sips from a cup in her hands. "Oh, come off it, Liz. We'll get home fine."

Jane peered at the cup again. When she looked up, Sam was gone. Already across the room dancing with a boy she recognized from Spanish class.

_To hell with it, _Jane decided, bringing her cup to her lips.

--------------------------------

"Hi, Riley." Hollis closed the door behind her almost silently. Riley heard the bolt slide and click into place, as well as Hollis' quickened heartbeat.

Riley was seated at the kitchen table, the mass of cheese still in front of him. He was staring at it intently. "He knows her real name."

Hollis pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. Riley flinched. Hollis grimaced. "Would you stop that? I'm not going to hurt you."

"Sorry," Riley muttered. "Old habits die hard, you know."

Hollis ignored his sarcasm. "Has Scout told you anything about her life before she found you?"

Riley's eyes darted back and forth uncomfortably as he searched his brain for a response. "The stories are always different. She's a storyteller, and whatever past tickles her fancy is what tale she spins."

"In other words, you don't know anything."

"I know…some things. Things Scout doesn't think I know. Like that her real name is Jane Prince. And that her birthday is November nineteenth. Other things I read off…" Riley read the deep intrigue in Hollis' grey eyes. "Never mind."

"I saw something in his memories. It was small, only fleeting." She leaned forward, speaking quietly. "Her face, Riley. I saw Scout's face."

---------------------------------------

Jane vaguely remembered only brief images after that, her memories becoming increasingly infrequent. She found a boy she had admired from her trig class. Ryan. They watched as one of their fellow students impressed other drunken teens with a magic trick—he kept transfiguring small items into others. It was his only trick, but he was damned good at it. A penny to a piece of chocolate. Ryan's arm snaked around Jane's waist.

Then she remembered pool chair vinyl digging into her back as Ryan's lips brusquely covered hers. His hands covered her body.

She remembered pushing him away. He protested, but she wouldn't have it. He left.

She stared at the pool water. She had the odd sensation someone was watching her, but she knew she was alone.

She remembered Ryan's friends. They were calling her names. Slut. Whore. She was going to regret. Pay. Their words ran together in her brain.

One pushed her against the fence, forcing another cup of beer down her throat. She coughed. They laughed. They were gone then. Jane doubled over, throwing up the measly amount of contents in her stomach.

Dizzy. She fell, and barely remembered one last thing: colliding with cold water.

The next thing she knew, people were screaming. She was cold and wet, and her head hurt like a pounding jackhammer. A hand was pressed against her forehead. She tried opening her eyes, but the light burned like hellfire. She shut them again, barely processing a figure crouched over her.

Her fingers touched those against her forehead. She couldn't formulate what had happened, only that she had fallen into the pool and was now somehow back on the pavement.

Her mouth formed words. "Who are you?" She whispered hoarsely.

This person didn't answer, and Jane thought for a moment they didn't intend to. She had almost slipped back into sleep when _he _answered.

"Gabriel. Gabriel Gray."

And then he was gone. Jane heard the screaming increase, and sirens wailing. She willed herself to stay awake.

"Oh, my God, Lizzie! I was so worried! Do you have any idea…" Sam ran across the patio and threw her arms around her lethargic friend.

"What's going on?" Jane muttered, opening her eyes to slits.

"Bobby, you know, who was doing to magic trick? He was murdered. Found in the bathroom with the top of his head taken completely off. Oh, it was horrible, Lizzie, absolutely horrible! Everyone is so scared. No one knows who did it…"

Sam went on. Jane started to shake as the emotion of everything that had happened hit her. That, and the cold air was doing nothing to help her wet body.

"God, Lizzie, did you go swimming?" Sam asked, running a hand over her friend's damp clothes.

"I passed out and fell in."

Sam's eyes widened even further. "Oh, my God, Lizzie, oh, my God! You could have died, too!"

"Someone saved me."

But Sam didn't hear her at all. The police had arrived. It was going to be a very long day.

------------------------------------

"I told my parents what had happened. They were always disturbed about what happened to Bobby, but so grateful I had lived. I told them your name. They tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal, but I knew they were frantic about it. They wanted to thank you." Scout had slumped down so only her head was propped against the shelf now. Her fingers were laced over her stomach. She stared at her shoes as she recounted her memories from that night.

It had been awful, but she was somehow thankful for it.

"They sent letters to every Gabriel Gray they could find within the United States. But they were never right. They even talked about it at night when they thought I was asleep."

Sylar looked at her curiously, listening to every word she said. This story, from her perspective, was quite interesting. He didn't even notice that the strength was slowly returning to his body. He was overdue for a tranquilizer drug.

Scout frowned. "They should have been mad. I lied to them about where I was going, got drunk at a party, and was at the scene of a murder. Somehow you saving me from drowning erased what I actually deserved."

"How did you know it was me from the second she said my name? I wasn't the only Gabriel Gray out there."

"I don't know. Maybe it was just the shock after hearing that name after all these years. And then everything else fell into place." Scout paused. "How did you know _my _name?"

"My 'heroic action' was on the news. The miracle amid the murder. I saw your interview."

"It was heroic. You saved me from drowning." Scout expected Sylar to reject what she had said, but he only looked at her with his dark eyes.

"You killed Bobby Goslin, didn't you? Stole his power?" Scout muttered.

Sylar half-smiled. "Thought you'd put one-and-one together sooner."

Scout sat upright, tucking her legs underneath her. "You're a murderer. A serial killer. So why did you save me?"

She stared into his eyes, waiting for them to betray what was going on inside his head. He was silent, but his eyes fell towards the ground.

"If I had known you had an ability, I would have killed you." Sylar suddenly noticed the return of strength. He flexed his hand indiscreetly. "What is your original ability, anyway?"

"Don't change the subject."

Sylar plotted escape in his mind. Should he kill her now? Or come back for her later, slowly wearing her down? These ideas which were previously so bright and vibrant to him now seemed duller. Plotting her death, the death of a girl who he'd pulled from a swimming pool only seconds after murdering her colleague, didn't gleam like it should have.

"Thank you," Scout whispered.

It caught him completely off guard. His train of thought disintegrated as he focused his attention on her, eyeing her incredulously.

"I never got to do so properly."

The shock must have been evident on his face, because Scout began to smirk. Sylar calmed himself, his calculative precise consciousness returning.

"You know, you looked like a real person right then," Scout remarked. Her tone was almost sad, and she couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for the man across from her.

He looked curious, but not puzzled. Scout took this as an invitation to continue. "You shouldn't be so repulsed by your own humanity. You saved someone's life, so there must be some good somewhere inside of you. Why do you fight so hard to be a bad guy?"

His expression turned grave. "There is no turning back for me. Besides, killing is what makes me better. It's what makes me _special. _Why would I give that up?"

Scout stood up and turned away from him. "There is always a chance to turn back. Maybe it's about time you got to know Riley a little better."

Sylar's lips curled into a snarl. "I'm afraid there won't be any time for that."

With a tightening of his fist, Scout fell to the ground, clawing at her neck. Her throat had become completely cut off, and her mind focused only on survival. She forgot she had abilities at all, writhing on the ground with her face slowly reddening.

Sylar found watching her in weakness mildly amusing. Maybe he would choke her to death slowly, watch her twitch and convulse, teasing her by letting small amounts of air back into her body. There were so many different ways he wanted to kill her.

Tears squeezed out of her eyes. It made Sylar smile.

"Surprise," said a voice by Sylar's ear. He glanced back to see Riley leaning halfway out of the wall. He placed his fingers against Sylar's temple, and he lost consciousness once again.

Scout flopped onto her back, gulping down air. She sputtered and coughed. Riley emerged completely from the wall and ran to her side.

"He's seen all your abilities now," Scout coughed. "He knows exactly what he can get."

Riley smiled. "He doesn't have to know that, now, does he?" He scooped one arm underneath her body and lifted her into a sitting position. "Now, just calm down. I think you need a bit of a siesta."

Scout glanced at Sylar one last time before relaxing into Riley's hold.

-------------------------------------

A/N: Whew! Hello again! This chapter was rather fun to write. Hopefully you liked this little twist. Things are really going to take off in the next chapter (which I've already written the first draft of, so it should be up in a couple of days) so get saddled up for some serious action and intrigue!

I owe my most sincere thanks to **Shadeslayer 390, night-star-93, wsand, HermioneandMarcus, Neurotic Isopod, KaraxLavi13, **and **ENZIO **for reviewing! Seriously, the reception after last chapter was really wonderful and overwhelming! It's why I wrote this chapter so quickly. Please keep reviewing! It makes me so happy and makes me want to keep writing.

Thanks for reading, again! See you next chapter! And remember, if you read this, please review! :) Peace out.


	6. Zero Six

Zero

Chapter Six

That night, Scout dreamed.

The images were disjointed, a swirl of moments knitting together in her mind. First, she was six years old, watching a cat pick apart a dead bird with its claws on the sidewalk in front of her house. The birds' parents were squawking in a nest in a nearby tree.

"Why didn't they save it?" she asked.

Her father was standing next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Because they are afraid."

Then she was fully grown again, bent over a fair-haired boy in an alleyway. She was emaciated and rabid, wildness in her eyes. She put a blade against his throat.

There was madness in him. He shuddered and convulsed. His eyes darting back and forth, like a moth searching for a flame.

"Bleed, bleed," Scout hiccupped, pressing the blade into his throat. Blood came pouring out in waves. She smiled. Seeing him bleed was joyful. Oh, how she loved it. Hearing the dying gurgles in his throat was like music to her ears.

Make him suffer, make him die. Yes, yes, yes. Her knife plunged in and out of his chest. His blood ran over her fingers. It felt good, so good. To make someone suffer it was sweet.

The scene shifted again. She was lying on her back next to Dessie Thompson's pool. Sylar was bent over her, smirking. She could see words written all over his skin…no, she realized, they were _names_. Names of those he had killed.

"I just don't want you to drown," he said.

Her forehead burst into a fiery white pain, as her skull was torn apart.

Scout's eyes fluttered open. Her vision was consumed by the dark of her bedroom. Her heart was thundering rapidly in her chest, and heat was clinging to her body.

Her hands were balled around the bed sheets. She listened to her own breathing slow as the images of blood, fresh in her mind, played in her eyelids.

Her left hand instinctively ran up the sheets to her nightstand. She opened the drawer and withdrew a knife. It felt cool and comfortable in her hand. She thought of the sickening excitement that had pulsed through her when she was cutting Sylar. The brilliant crimson standing out against his skin, staining his shirt…she could do it over and over again. He would heal.

It took a moment before she caught her breath and sorted through her thoughts. She threw the sheets back, muttering a few indistinguishable words to herself before she realized something was wrong.

The bedroom was vacant of Riley's soft snoring.

"Riley?" Scout called out.

She heard nothing in response. She got to her feet and crossed the room, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She reached his bed and put her hands down, finding nothing. He was gone.

Scout went into the kitchen. He wasn't in there, either. It wasn't like Riley to just leave in the middle of the night without telling Scout; they always told each other where they were going.

She tried to calm herself, taking a deep breath. She crossed the room to the entrance hatch and poked her head out. She couldn't hear anything but creaking metal. Her skin grew cold.

She crossed the room again, this time to the storage room door. She didn't want to face Sylar right then, thanks to both his attempt on her life earlier that day and his disturbing presence in her dream. She hoped he would be asleep.

"Riley?" Scout whispered into the room. She was met with nothing but silence.

She was about to close the door when she heard, "What's the matter? Lost your friend?" His voice was groggy, but not lacking in sarcasm.

Scout bristled. "Shut up."

"I heard him leave a couple hours ago," Sylar added, as if he didn't hear her.

Scout paused, then fully entered the room. "Did he say anything to you?" She asked, trying to mask her worried air. "Do you know anything else?"

He only shrugged.

She opened her mouth to berate him, but she heard the hatch open and someone drop in. She turned in the doorway, and saw Riley across the kitchen.

"Riley! Where the hell have you—"

His face was uncharacteristically ghostly. He was out of breath and looked tousled, like he had just been in a fight. He staggered over to Scout.

"Our location has been compromised," he said hoarsely. Scout's eyes widened. "We have to go. Now."

"How? I made sure Hollis—"

Riley grabbed her arms, his eyes darting back and forth frantically. "No time. We have to leave _now_."

Her chest heaved. She knew this day was inevitable, but she was none too happy that it had finally come.

"Gather our stocks and any food you can carry. I'll…" her eyes travelled back to Sylar. "Give him the antidote."

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Claire felt sick the second they landed back in the present. Whether it was from time-travelling or from just being there again, she couldn't be sure. She looked around at the room around them. It was a long office with lots of bookshelves, probably belonging to Nathan.

When she saw her two fathers waiting to receive them, she nearly doubled over.

Noah smiled for the first time in a very long while. He rushed forward and scooped Claire up in his arms. "Oh, Claire Bear. I've missed you."

"I missed you, too," Claire whispered back. The soft sting of tears poked at the corner of her eyes.

When he released her, she wasn't sure whether or not to hug Nathan as well. She bit her lip before uttering a quiet, "Hi."

Nathan nodded in acquiescence. "Hello, Claire." His eyes darted between her and Noah, and then to Peter.

"I thought Hiro said everyone else would be waiting here for us," Peter said.

"Well, that's not much of a 'hello', but I'll take what I can get," Nathan replied, half-smiling.

Peter smirked. "Haven't lost your charm, have you?"

"Never better. Nice to see you, Pete."

"Yeah, good to see you, too."

"Come on, everyone should be waiting in the lounge. We've fastened a kind of headquarters here. Everyone is currently living in this building so we can keep close ranks," Nathan explained, leading the party out of the office and into the hall.

"And a close eye," Noah added.

They reached the end of the hallway, where stood a set of double doors. Nathan pushed them open, and headed into the lounge.

Claire only recognized a handful of faces, and those she did recognized looked much older and more tired than they had before. Matt Parkman was playing scrabble with a fully-grown Molly Walker and Micah Sanders. She vaguely recognized a few other faces she couldn't quite place. There were only about twenty-five people in the room, sprawled across tables and chairs, chatting excitedly and demonstrating their abilities. Most of them looked quite young, though there were a few older figures that populated the room.

Her fathers had better have a hell of a good idea if they expected thirty people to be able to turn around the future of mankind.

"Alright, Nathan, you managed to gather us all here. Now, would you mind telling us what your great plan is?" Peter asked, crossing his arms. The room had fallen silent to observe the newcomers.

Nathan smiled. He was always happy to answer the doubts of his little brother. With a confidant smile he said, "All in due time, Peter. How about some lunch first?"

--------------------------------

Scout wasted no time plucking a syringe out of the medical supplies and filling it with the antidote to the tranquilizer. She scrambled over to Sylar.

"Listen to me, and listen well. Frankly, I don't give a shit what you do once you get your strength back, but I swear to God if you get in our way, we _will _kill you, rapid cellular regeneration or not." Scout jammed the syringe into Sylar's neck and punched down the plunger.

Sylar only watched her curiously. "Why give me my strength back at all?"

Scout hesitated. Why _was_ she doing this? After all, when they came after her and Riley, wouldn't it be just as well for them to capture Sylar? By giving him his strength back, she was only allowing him to escape, and allowing him the opportunity to hunt them down again and kill them.

Scout thought about that figure bent over her at the pool. About his words from her dream. _"I just don't want to you drown."_

"They'll try to attack you, too, so it'll help us in the end if you finish one of them off," she answered, snarling.

Sylar raised an eyebrow.

"And if anyone gets to kill you, I want to be that person, not them," Scout added in a rush. She dropped the syringe into her pocket. "You should be back to normal in about five minutes."

She only hoped they had that long before the Finders came.

She had been acquainted with some other renegades like herself who had been caught by the Finders. Treacherous, wicked people who used their abilities to find people like Scout and kill them. Scout and Riley had evaded them before, and hoped they could again. But they weren't immortal, and who knew if their judgment day had come.

Scout rushed into the bedroom and dressed herself. She slipped out of her pajamas and into a pair of boots, tough jeans, and a blue jacket. She found a handgun and slipped it into her jacket pocket, and slipped a dagger into the other. She emptied the drawers of her nightstand, removing tiny vials from their stash they had collected from dealers.

_Smash them, _she told herself. As she stared at the glittering little vials clutched in her hands, she paused and bit her lip. She knew it would she had better destroy them. If they fell into the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic. But her eyes glossed over the vials, gleaming like diamonds in the light, she couldn't do it. They would fetch so much money. She wouldn't have to hunt for food and hide in an abandoned storage facility. _No_. She shook her head. She would keep them for leverage and research, she told herself. She grabbed a small bag and began dumping them inside. She pulled the drawer all the way out and let it clatter to the floor. Taped to the inside of the nightstand was the vial Scout had found strapped to the blond man. She stuck that one inside her pocket, not knowing what it was, but willing to bet it was powerful.

Scout slung the bag onto her shoulders, and burst into the kitchen. "Riley, are you—"

He was standing frozen in the center of the room, an eerie expression on his face. The usually cheerful light was gone from his eyes, replaced by trepidation.

"They're here," he croaked.

Scout's skin prickled as the sound of squelching metal rose to a feverish pitch. The entrance hatch folded in on itself before ripping from its hinges and flying into the air.

Scout pulled out her handgun and aimed it forward, poised to shoot whatever came through that hatch. Riley held his breath, holding a gun out in front of himself as well. Scout wouldn't go down without a fight, and she would bring the bastard with her if she went.

Unfortunately, it wasn't only one bastard. Three dark-clothed figures dropped down through the hatch: two males and one female. Each was pale and gaunt, with wicked light dancing behind their smiles. The male in front, who was obviously the leader, was the most sinister-looking. His wolfish lips pulled back into a bared smile.

Scout would especially enjoy watching him bleed.

She fired a warning shot at the second male.

But the bullet crumpled into itself, falling like a wadded gum wrapper onto the ground. The Wolf was holding out a hand, manipulating the metal. He turned to Scout and flexed his fingers. The handgun tore apart in her hands.

The sheer amount of metal materials in their home absently ran through Scout's mind. With this kind of power against them, they were living inside their death. They had to take them down quick.

Riley made his move, and everything flew into motion.

He went lunging into the wall, phasing right through it. The female leapt at him, trying to grab his clothes before he disappeared. A small ball of fire appeared in her hand, and she shot it at him right as he slipped through. It singed the shoulder of his shirt.

The Wolf manipulated the kitchen table, shaping it into a jagged cone before launching it at Scout. The second male only stood there, watching with calm, collected eyes. Scout teleported before the table could hit her.

She reappeared behind The Wolf and jumped onto his back, locking her arms tightly around his throat. Sputtering and coughing, he fell to the floor. Scout's eyes grew wide as she smiled, the awareness of the blade in her jacket pocket becoming more and more conscious all the while.

Riley emerged from the wall, slamming into the fire-bender with his entire weight. They crashed to the ground. Gathering a rope he had grabbed from the storage room in his hands, he slipped a noose around her neck and pulled.

The second male glanced at Riley and the female. He stepped over to The Wolf and his attacker, and calmly put one hand on Scout's cheek.

Scout's body suddenly screamed in pain. A shock unlike anything she had ever felt before poured through her. It was like being skinned alive, but being able to watch all of it, and feel every piece of flesh ripped from its place. She wished for death. Anything. She had to have release.

Riley saw her distress. He pressed his fingers to the female's temple, and she fell unconscious. Leaping up, he ran over and tackled the second male who was still touching Scout. As they flew across the room, Riley let him slam into the wall, but phased through it himself.

"Don't let him touch your temples!" The Wolf snarled, glancing at the unconscious female. The second male was still recollecting himself, slowly getting to his feet.

Scout's mind was fuzzy. _Fight_, a small voice inside her lobbied. But a large part of her wanted to die. She never, ever wanted to feel something like what she had just gone through again.

_Make him pay_. The voice said. _Kill him. Make him bleed._

Her eyes came into focus just in time to teleport before the Wolf brought a blunt pipe down onto her skull. She reappeared next to the female, who was just regaining consciousness. Scout picked up the rope where Riley had dropped it. _Where was he?_ She thought in a panic. She lifted the woman up to her knees by the rope around her neck, and stooped behind her.

"Take one more step, and she dies," Scout hissed. Her fingers gripped the rope hungrily. She ached to kill someone, to watch the light leave their eyes. She wanted it to be the Wolf, but if she had to settle for this girl, so be it. Her teeth were bared.

The Wolf pulled out a pistol, and shot the female in the neck. She slumped in Scout's grip.

"Son of a bitch," she growled. She braced herself to take on the two Finders, but an arm reached out from the wall behind her and pulled her through.

Scout landed in the storage room, on top of Riley.

"_Why in the flying hell did you leave me in there alone?" _Scout shouted, pinning Riley down. Her fingernails dug into his skin through his shirt.

"Calm down! I have an idea." Riley thrust an object into Scout's hands.

She scoffed, her mind still reeling. "Lighter fluid?"

"Yes, Scout! Now just start pouring in before they break down the door."

Scout glanced to the door, where she saw what Riley had spent the past moments doing. Nearly everything in the room was shoved up against the door, providing a significant blockade between them and their enemies.

Scout noticed Sylar for the first time, too. He was standing, with a curious look on his face, as if he was trying to understand a difficult problem.

"What kind of powers do they have?" He asked, an intense interest in his voice.

Scout was too busy spreading lighter fluid around the room to answer. Riley, who was listening intently to what was going on outside the room, said, "You'll see soon enough."

The metal hinges on the door splintered and crumbled to the floor. The doorknob shriveled and fell out of its spot, leaving a hole. Scout heard the cruel laugh of the Wolf as he peered through the hole.

The shelves pressed up against the door all began to creak and twist. The lighter fluid fell out of Scout's hands as she watched the curious display. Then, they shattered into a million tiny fragments. The small, sparkling slivers hung in the air as the Wolf knocked down the door and entered the room. He walked straight through the shards hanging in the air, creating a tunnel. The jagged pieces that swept past his face didn't even scratch him.

He smiled, and the shards shot out in all directions. Sylar simply stopped the shards about to him in, the curiosity in his eyes turning to fascination. Scout teleported, but not before her heart skipped a beat. Riley was screaming.

As she reappeared, she ran to her friend, who was clawing at his face. The blood seeping from his eyes and skin made her mind tingle.

Her heart slowed as she turned back to the Wolf and the second man. With Riley's screams behind her, she stared straight into the deviled eyes of the Wolf.

"You manipulated that metal so easily…" Sylar mused, an eager smile on his face. "I'd like to know how that feels."

The Wolf glanced at the second man, and nodded. The second man approached Sylar.

"And what can you do?" Sylar asked.

"Let me show you," the second man smirked, reaching out. But his body stiffened in place.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Sylar said, grinning at the man. "I hope you don't take it personally, but I'll have to be showing you my power first." He lifted an arm and drew his finger in a straight, concise line. A burst of red ripped across the second man's forehead, following the draw of Sylar's finger.

He fell to the ground, bleeding from his head. The Wolf's eyes widened and betrayed a flicker of fear only for a moment. Scout watched, mesmerized. The blood was oozing freely from the man's head, trickling all over the floor. It was soaking into his clothes, and mixing with the lighter fluid. A solid pit of admiration for the serial killer's talent kneaded itself into her stomach. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the image of so much bleeding from so little effort.

Sylar bent down next to the fallen man to finish his work. He was entranced, tantalized by the idea of solving the mysterious power. The Wolf was laughing again, and Riley was still crying out in agony. Scout returned her eyes to the Wolf. She lunged for him, throwing her weight against his middle.

He didn't even struggle as she withdrew her knife and pressed it against his throat. He only laughed darkly, his mouth twisted. Scout knew he could crumple the knife easily, but she wasn't going to wait around to find out why he hadn't done so yet. She pierced his skin. The carmine liquid swelled around her blade.

He was still laughing. "It won't be long before you turn," he cackled.

Scout growled. "Shut up."

"I'll see you in hell."

She roared and tucked her blade underneath his chin. She stabbed it upward through his jaw, silencing him.

A fever settled over Scout as she watched crimson blood spill out of the wound. She touched the tips of her fingers to it as it ran down his throat, coating his neck and the ground below him. A surge pushed through her, and she forced the blade between his lips. Two swift cuts, and his face was forever a wolfish grin.

Her feverish excitement heightened as blood spilled across his cheeks. She wanted to make him bleed more. She thought of her first kill, a fair-haired boy in an alleyway. He'd bled well. She wanted the Wolf to bleed as much as he had. She'd paint the room with him. Her eyes grew wide in delight.

As she pushed her knife into his body again, she was completely oblivious to Sylar watching her. The blood of the second man was drying on his hands, and he had momentarily forgotten about the new ability he had acquired. Curiosity had filled his eyes again now.

"Scout!" Riley cried out. She jerked her head up, and met Sylar's eyes across her victim's body. The intense fascination in his eyes perturbed her. She glared back, unrelenting.

Riley called out again, and this time, Scout came to him. "Don't worry, Riley. I'll get us out of here." As she gathered him up in her arms, she never broke eye contact with Sylar.

"Start the fire," Riley muttered. "Burn everything."

Scout nodded. She scrambled to some nearby supplies and found a set of matches. With one arm around Riley, she lit a match, dropped it, and teleported.

The last thing she saw before she vanished was Sylar's curious and fascinated eyes still watching her.

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A/N: Well that was fun. Sorry for the poorly constructed battle. I'm awful at fight scenes. I rather enjoyed revealing more of Scout's character that was only hinted at in earlier chapters. Yes, the last part was actually very fun to write. :P I also listened to a LOT of Stephen Sondheim music while writing that part. You might be able to tell (wolf, anyone?). This is mostly completely rewritten from my first draft of chapter six. The only part I didn't change was the scene in the middle with Nathan, Claire, and company. Scout's dream was ENTIRELY different, and while in the first draft there was still a battle scene, it ended VERY differently and much more craptastically, in my honest opinion. I am MUCH happier with how this turned out the second time around.

Anyway, on to the thanks! Thanks to **HermioneandMarcus, Shadeslayer390, Neurotic-Isopod, KaraxLavi13, night-star-93, Nicco1395, **and **wsand**. Thank you all SO MUCH for reviewing! I appreciate and take into consideration every comment I receive. Anything you say means a ton, and I'm glad I can count on you regulars for reviews. :) I hope I'm making you guys happy with how this story is going!

Okay, that's all. Thanks for reading! See you next chapter. And please remember to review! :D


	7. Zero Seven

Zero

Chapter Seven

If she weren't so preoccupied with her freezing cold body from the rain outside or supporting the frame of her incapacitated friend, Scout might have considered the irony of Sanctuary. The world had been torn asunder by gang warfare and crime, stripping countries of their organization and power. And yet, there she was, outside a cathedral, still structurally sound, seeking refuge. It was still Sanctuary to those who were hiding from persecution, though it had long been abandoned. There were still a few good people in the world out there, and this church happened to be the residency of a few of them.

As Scout rapped heavily on the splintered wood door in the back of the cathedral, she glanced around her once. If Finders were on her tail, she didn't want to lead them here. She had been careful, but still, there was only so careful one could be when supporting a friend that was barely hanging on to consciousness.

Scout stole a glance at Riley. His face was covered with cuts from the metal shards, some deeper than others. The mask of blood snaking about his face was a grisly image. He would never look the same again.

Finally, the door creaked ajar. A pair of bright blue eyes greeted them through the small opening.

"I plead for Sanctuary," Scout said.

The eyes traveled to Riley's face, then nodded. The door opened all the way, and Scout traveled in with Riley in tow.

The interior of the cathedral hadn't changed much, either. The corridor they were in was dominated by heavy tapestries and stain-glass windows. Scout regarded the figure that had let them in. It was a thin, wide-eyed girl with countless freckles that reminded Scout a disturbingly great amount of herself when she was younger.

"Is there anyone with medical knowledge or abilities? My friend--"

"This way," the girl responded abruptly, waving Scout along down the corridor. They descended a flight of stairs and passed a few more doors before stepping into a small room lit by a single lamp.

In the room there was a sterile white hospital bed. Scout heaved Riley onto it, and he groaned as his back settled into the hard mattress.

"Wait here," the girl said. She was gone before Scout could question her.

For the first time since the night before, Scout caught her breath. She stared at Riley's shoes, eager to avoid his face—or, rather, what was left of it. The room smelled like sterilized needles. It made her dizzy.

She should have left sooner. She had spent too much time relishing her victory over the Wolf, too much time watching him bleed, while Riley writhed in agony. Her blood lust was undeniably a part of her; this she had known since the first time she saw a car accident as a child. But the fact that it had come first in her mind before the well being of her partner and friend—hell, her _only _friend_—_shook up her stomach and made her feel like vomiting.

The girl returned, with a beefy, skyscraping man in tow. He had crooked eye and was carrying a doctor's bag. Scout eyed him.

"Who are you?"

He grunted something like a laugh. "I'm here to help you, and all I get is a question of identity. People these days, they just don't trust anyone."

_You say that like you're surprised, _Scout thought to herself. The man shuffled over to the bed where Riley was lying, and pulled over a chair.

"What happened to him?"

Scout paused. "He was hit by shards of metal. They flew into his face."

The man bent over Riley, pulling on some latex gloves and a face mask. He unfolded a bright lamp that had been tucked behind the bed and peered into Riley's skin.

"I see what you mean. Nasty little things are still embedded in there."

"Who are you?" Scout asked again.

He grunted, pulling more instruments out of his bag.

"He's called Mend," the green-eyed girl spoke. Scout had all but forgotten she was there.

_Mend, _Scout thought. Unusual, but she liked it. It was a self-explanatory name, like her own.

"Hey, you," Mend said. Scout opened her mouth to respond but realized it wasn't her he was speaking to; it was Riley. "I need you to answer some questions for me. So don't get all unconscious on me. Mmkay?"

Riley groaned in response.

"Can you see?"

It was a moment before Riley answered. "Are my eyes open?"

Mend answered, "Yes."

Scout's nails dug into her palms. He couldn't see. _He couldn't see. _Fury started to swirl in her stomach.

Mend pulled a long pair of tweezers out of his bag, and held Riley's head still by his hair. "Now, this is going to hurt like hell. Just so you know."

As Scout watched Mend pluck the metal shards free of his skin, her mind became blind white anger. She felt the need from revenge intoxicate her. The only problem was, she didn't know who to feel anger for. The Finders? They caused his injury. Sylar? He could have stopped it. Or herself? She sated her blood lust while Riley was gripped in iron-like pain.

She inadvertently thought about the Wolf's dead face forever carved into a grin, and she knew if she faced the same situation again, things were turn out the exact same way.

She swiftly left the room, Riley's cries of pain trailing behind her. She ascended the stairs, needing to find a place to clear her head. She went up and up, past the main floor, until she reached the bell tower.

She leaned across the stones, peering at the carcass of New York City sprawled out in front of her. The world smelled like ashes. She savored it.

"And I half expected you to be up here screaming your little head off about your friend," remarked a cool voice behind her.

Quick as lightning, Scout pulled a blade from her pocket and wheeled around. When she saw who it was, she only pushed the blade harder against his chest.

"Why did you follow me?" Scout snarled.

Sylar smirked. "Well, let's put it like this. I found your little display back at that pathetic hole in the ground you called home quite intriguing."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't cut out your heart."

"Well, for one, another one would grow right back in its place," Sylar quipped. "Two, I can do this." The blade flew out of Scout's had and clattered onto the rooftop below.

Sylar grinned as Scout watched the knife fall. "You seem to have some interesting sets of double standards, Jane."

"_Scout_." Her eyes flashed darkly.

"Fine, have it your way. _Scout._ What's in a name, anyway?"

"You tell me, Gabriel."

"I'd rather talk about you right now." Sylar took a step closer to her, hoping to see panic in her eyes. He was unsatisfied. "Tell me, Scout, why is it that you fight to keep powers from being sold on the street, when you've obviously shot up yourself? Tell me, Scout, why you are so insistent on teamwork when you would rather carve up a body than rush your ailing partner to aid?" His dark eyes were close to hers, and he detected the slightest glimmer of hesitation. Not fear, but it was close enough. He lowered his voice. "Tell me, Scout, how can you be a hero when you get such joy out of making people bleed?"

Her fist hammered into his jaw, maintaining her cool all the while. Sylar chortled, rubbing his jaw and turning back towards her. "The truth is painful, isn't it?"

"Seems to me you're the one in pain," Scout retorted, rubbing her knuckles. "What do you hope to accomplish by this? Or is this just some kind of sick pastime of yours? You're immortal. I bet you have run out of regular hobbies by now."

"You're trying to distract me. How charming." Sylar laughed again. "You can't even bare to face yourself, can you?"

"Of course I can," Scout spat. "I know who I am. I know the choices I've made."

"Then let me ask you this. Do you think you're a hero, the way you're carrying on?"

Scout's eyes were narrow slits. "I never pretended to be one."

"But you think you're doing good things, don't you?" The amusement was clear on his face. He wanted to make Scout crack, to see that inhuman part of her come out again.

"Because I _do _do good things." Scout's voice was a hiss now. "I prevent people from making the worst mistakes they could make. Getting an ability."

Sylar raised an eyebrow.

"I do bad things, too. Am I a good person, or a bad person? Hell if I know, hell if I care. I just do what I think is _right_,"

"Is that so? Are you sure that's your only motive?"

Scout's expression remained dark, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of curiosity. She said nothing.

"You and I have more in common than you'd like to acknowledge, Scout," Sylar smirked. "We both have more than one power, we both do what is best for ourselves, and we both enjoy heads rolling."

Scout's muscles tensed. She wanted nothing more right then than to throw him off that bell tower, disgusted at the fact that everything he had said was true.

"So?" She simply responded.

"So you admit it. You don't do what you do because it's right. It's because it works for you. It serves you well."

"That's not what I meant."

"Isn't it?" Sylar turned away from her, smiling. He admired the New York skyline. It looked better this way, half-way collapsed and derelict. "If the situation changed and it became easier to be one of them, I don't think you'd hesitate."

Scout cocked her head to one side. She knew he was right. She didn't fight dealers because her sense of justice compelled her to; she did it because she found it thrilling, and it was the outcome that had fallen into place after she met Riley. But the fact that he _was _right, that he had been able to discern so much about her when they had interacted so little, perturbed her.

"I know who I am, Sylar. So tell me what you want, or fuck off."

He laughed again, that demeaning chortle that was starting to seriously irritate Scout. He seemed to find irony hysterical. Turning back towards her, he replied, "You have some admirable talents, Scout. Your emotional manipulation ability is, to be honest, fascinating. I think if we worked together, we could really make a difference in the world"

Now it was her turn to laugh. "You can't be serious. Why the hell would I abandon a perfectly good companion like Riley to join up with you when I know you'll kill me the second I let my guard down?"

"Do you ever let your guard down?"

Scout sniffed. "That's not the point. The point is that you have nothing that I want that could possibly make me want to help you with whatever it is you want to do." She paused. "What is it you want to do, anyway?"

Sylar stepped towards her. "I was hoping you would ask. I've discovered that some old...acquaintances of mine have returned to the present. Acquaintances I would rather like to slice apart. Some of them are more powerful than others. But with your abilities, they couldn't possibly stop us." He flashed a cruel smile. "And your 'partner' is now injured. How will it serve you to just wait around while he recuperates? If he does at all?"

"I care about Riley. I owe him my life," Scout said. "You can't possibly offer me something more important than that."

Sylar pretended to frown. "We'll see." He flicked his wrist, and Scout's blade flew back into his hand from where it had fallen on the roof. He gripped the handle and brought the knife to his other palm. With one exact slice, he cut his skin apart.

Scout watched in utter fascination as his skin split apart and carmine blood bubbled up around the wound. Then, his skin pulled together again, leaving behind a river of crimson in his palm.

Scout's eyes traveled up to meet Sylar's. "So what? I help you and then you let me carve you up as a reward? How pathetic do you think I am?"

"I don't know you that well, Scout," Sylar smirked, wiping his hand on his jeans. "What means more to you? A useless friend with sub-par abilities, or being able to make someone bleed whenever you want?"

Scout opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say. She couldn't let him talk her into this. She adored Riley; she really did. He was reliable and sound, and his abilities were really quite handy. She owed him her sanity. But Sylar was powerful. He could accomplish anything he wanted to. He could bleed forever. She could get his abilities from him. She knew how to extract them from someone's blood. Her bag of vials was still lying on the floor of the bedroom where Riley and Mend were. They didn't mean anything compared to what she could get from Sylar.

He was right. She wanted to do what would benefit herself the most. She felt her loyalty to Riley weakening.

"Why me?" Scout sneered between clenched teeth.

"Like I said, you're abilities are quite useful. And we do have a lot in common."

Scout turned away from him and turned towards the stairs. She didn't want him to see it on her face that she knew he was right. "Go to hell."

"So you'll think about it," Sylar said.

Scout let the door click shut behind her, a fuming mess of conflicting voices pounding in her head.

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A/N: Phew! This took me FOREVER to churn out. Bleh. I'm none too happy with the finished result, either. The next chapter is going to be Riley-centric, but after that, Hiro, Peter and co. are going to be playing a much bigger part in this story. Sorry for the lack of them in this chapter. I just couldn't think of anything for them to be doing right now.

Time for thanks! Thanks to:** night-star-93, Shadeslayer390, Nicco1395, KaraxLavi13, wsand, **and **NexCireneg** for reviewing! Seriously, I do it all for you guys. 3 I love all of your comments and consider all of them seriously, so thanks a bunch for all your help! :) Keep it coming.

Well, that's all for now. Chapters are probably going to be coming a bit more slowly now. I'm trying to organize my stories in my head. There is a lot going on up there right now. I also need to really figure out where this is going, because I honestly have no idea.

Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!


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